Holy Saturday for the Reformed and/or Task-Oriented
No lights were on, not even a candle. The dusk of the day through the opaque glass ceiling over our chancel area yielded just enough
No lights were on, not even a candle. The dusk of the day through the opaque glass ceiling over our chancel area yielded just enough
After a long hiatus, guest columnist Pious Petunia returns with wise and timely guidance along the Lenten pilgrim path.
Bare pots of dirt: that’s my preferred symbol this Advent. Bare trees, dead leaves, winter stillness. It occurred to me the other day, stopping and
Come and more than hover, come and root
in rock-hard hearts, ignite us, hurricane us, earthquake our ache,
for we are empty caves,
One night, I dreamed it wasn’t just me. Every other old codger had gone silent. It seemed that any man over about age 50 could
I wonder if that is the true definition of wilderness: places where we find ourselves unprepared and bewildered. No solution seems obvious or forthcoming. Sometimes
The mood is oddly chipper considering we are about to play for a funeral. This is what we do at our church: when someone dies,
Come, Savior.
Come amid the salt-crusted cars lined up at the light,
amid the clamor and bustle of commerce,
the grocery store cash
INT. KIDS THESE DAYS CAFÉ, HEAVEN – ETERNAL DAY
Small clusters of saints in white robes, vaguely glowing, chatter convivially around heavy wood tables in
Dear Jesus,
Just thought I’d send a quick note and let you know how things are going this Lent. Actually, not so good tbh. I